


Reentry

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, M/M, Married Life, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Felicity thinks recovery from her biostimulant chip isn't moving as fast as she would like. She's not where she wants to be professionally and personally in terms of her mobility yet, but Oliver believes she'll get there soon. She doesn't need her husband's help, although it is nice when he's simply able to lend an ear. Felicity is starting to come to terms with an aspect of her life with help from a friend on a date night at McGuire's bar and more.





	1. Who Will I Be?

( _Originally via 415 "Taken"_ )

Starling General's flourscent lights cast an unflattering glow on Felicity, though she cares less about her complexion and more so about the work she's about to put her body through. For the past few months, the biostimulant chip that's implanted in Felicity's spine has been malfunctioning. The setback has nearly put her at square one, so now here she is at the local hospital's therapy unit, readying to take on those parallel bars once more, and Felicity hopes she can take a couple more steps this week.

Paul smiles broadly, prompting. "You ready, Mrs. Queen?"

"Paul," Felicity insists, narrowing her eyes slightly, yet her lips curl into a soft smile. "Mrs. Queen was my mother-in-law. We're all friends here, so please call me, Felicity."

"Felicity," her physical therapist course-corrects immediately, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sorry, sorry. Well, let's get you up whenever you're ready."

Felicity intakes a breath, leaning forward. Even when she feels cold metal rails underneath her palms, she still struggles to balance herself properly. Her gray Nike sneakers with accents of highlighter green are planted securely on the light wood platform of her least favorite apparatus for PT. This is her mountain, her climb, and her overall least favorite problem. Damn it, she's going to be strutting her stuff like Heidi Klum in no time, or at least she hopes so. Felicity's body trembles, having to relearn what was once seemingly such a simple task.

Her breath is shaky along with her limbs, yet she reminds herself like a mantra, "I can do this. I can do this. I can _so totally_ do this."

"Yes, you can." Oliver believes, adding in his vote of confidence no louder than a whisper. "But either way, we've got you."

"There's no pressure here, Mrs..." Paul reminds, fixing his mistake, "Felicity, your husband and I are here if you need us."

"Which I won't," His patient chimes, muttering quietly to herself, "hopefully. Well, here we go."

"Here we go," Her husband repeats, waiting by Felicity's side with his knees bent just in case he needs to brace a possible fall.

Felicity announces again, "Here we go. Here we're going."

She leads with her left leg, though she still has a bit of trouble with her right side. She drags her right foot forward. Her sneaker squeaks languidly across the wooden platform in the process.

"Felicity." Paul advises, enunciating every single syllable of her first name, much like Oliver often does. "I know it's difficult, but I need you to try and focus on picking up your right leg. I don't want you dragging your foot and injuring your hip and leg in the process."

His patient chokes out a "Yeah, okay," not removing her gaze from a blank blue wall that's only a few mere feet away from her. That answer makes it seem like an elephant is sitting directly on her chest. She exhales sharply, and her heart now feels as if it's sprinting in a marathon. Does Barry ever feel this way with his superspeed? Frack, forget about Barry. Focus on the goal. Every muscle in her lower right side strains to pick up that limb off the ground, and her leg is shaking severely. Her step is far too wide. The mismatched space between her feet causes Felicity to falter. Her torso teeters forward and backward. She grips the railing beside her with a much tighter grasp than before.

" _Ooh, ah! Ugh_ ," She grunts as her knees buckle, voice jangling along with her nerves.

Oliver and Paul both instinctively hold her arms, supporting her weight. With his free arm, Paul wheels her chair over to the small, but meaningful distance she's crossed thus far.

Meanwhile her husband whispers in assurance, "Oh, it's okay. We gotcha. We gotcha."

On that note, Felicity's butt is plopped back into the seat of her wheelchair, much to her chagrin. Her eyes fall shut as her center of gravity is restored. She takes in another series of deep, slow breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart. Oliver plants a chaste kiss on the crown of her head in consolation, stepping behind his wife. Her hands massage over her own thighs, which are clad in black yoga pants. Oliver's calloused hands contrast smooth cotton of her pink t-shirt, working over those knots in her back.

"Well, that went nowhere." Felicity mentions, chastising herself as she refocuses her attention on Paul.

Paul points outs, "That went somewhere. That was one step better than last week. One thing I want you work on at home though is picking up that right leg of yours. Have you been working on those core and leg stretches I recommended each day?"

"Yes," She fibs hastily.

Paul looks to Oliver, who's pursed lips speak otherwise. Now Oliver and Felicity don't lie to each other anymore ever, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't lie _for_ each other. Though, Paul reminds Oliver of that football coach he had in high school. Nice guy, although he can be intimidating and motivating all the same time.

"Felicity, the truth please."

Ugh, traitor. The man could take down criminals, evil metahumans, mind-controlling aliens, and all the worst kinds of people imaginable. However, when it boils down to her mother or Paul, he caves like a building that's about to meet the business end of a wrecking ball. Besides there are more important things to worry about than boring exercise. Crime rates have been down in Oliver's second term as mayor, although there's still Star City's usual idiot of the week, who thinks they can dare get past the Green Arrow, Spartan, Overwatch, and Speedy. Plus along with their night jobs protecting the city, Felicity's attempting to start an entirely new company - Queen Incorporated. It's about time she's given, Palmer Tech - the multi-billion dollar conglomerate that scorned her- a run for their money. But as soon as Felicity can find some backers, she'll get there soon enough.

Sucking in her lower lip, Felicity admits, "No."

"The healing process is frustrating, I know. I see it firsthand every single day, and it can take a long time." Paul counsels, writing a lengthy message down on a prescription pad, "The end result is worth it once you put in the work. Here."

Geez, this is reminiscent of the time Felicity got sent to the principal's office usually for talking too much in class, and that behavior was simply a product of her intelligence. She would finish her work much faster than the rest of the class. Paul rips off a thin white piece of paper from his pad.

"What's this?" Her eyebrows quirk.

"A helpful addition to Dr. Grieg's orders, Felicity."

She reads, eyes scouring over the note. "Leg lifts and free weights twenty minutes to an hour a day, one glass of red wine, a scoop of mint chip, and a date night with your hunky husband."

"Hunky, huh?" Oliver's faces flushes pink as dimples prod his cheeks.

"Oh, there's more. Flip it over."

Felicity does just that, continuing, "Please remember to look at the exercise diagram, and don't be so hard on yourself."

"We clear?" Paul hopes, crossing her eyes over his chest.

She hums dismissively, heading straight for the co-ed restroom, "Mmhm."

"Thanks, Paul. You and Curtis are terrific." Oliver offers, shaking the therapist's hand before he briskly trails after his wife. "Felicity's just been a little frustrated lately."

"It happens," Paul shrugs.

With unfortunately needed help from her husband, Felicity swaps her workout attire for some dark blue jeans, black boots with a low heel, a black blouse with blue floral decals, and a matching leather jacket. Oliver pulls on his own leather jacket over his maroon Henley when the couple manages to snag an elevator ride down to the parking garage. Star City gets dark earlier these days since Daylight Savings Time has passed recently. Oliver glances at his watch, and it's barely past five o'clock. That gives them plenty of time to talk, although from the way Felicity's pushing her wheelchair over the damp parking lot, she looks to be in no mood to speak to anyone. He can see the disappointment written all over her face, but he waits for her to say something. Oliver fights the urge to push Felicity's wheelchair for her, understanding that she desperately wants her independence back, so he leaves his hands in his pockets as they make their way to their truck.

Finally, she speaks as they move towards their parking spot, "You okay?"

"Me?"

"Well, I knew you were gonna ask me, so I thought I'd beat you to the punch." Felicity acknowledges, rolling along

He chuckles at that, wondering, "Are you okay?"

As they venture into the light, Felicity spins her chair around, facing her husband.

"A guy, a brilliant guy says he can put a microchip in my spine, and I will walk again." Felicity recounts, huffing out a bitter laugh, "And for awhile, it works amazingly well. Until it doesn't. It was great while it lasted, but I'm enough of a geek to know science fiction when I see it."

"And you're still disappointed."

That isn't a question. It's a statement. Oliver knows Felicity like the number of arrows in his quiver. She has a bad habit of prioritizing other people's problems above her own, and as fiercely independent as his wife is, when it relates to her own struggles, Felicity pushes people away or at the very least keeps them at arm's length, so she can deal with it on her own. But in their work, mission, and marriage, Oliver and Felicity are a team.

"Yeah, you know." Felicity answers, tears gleaming in her eyes as she attempts to avoid Oliver's face. "It's stupid."

It's not stupid, and she's lightyears away from that.

Squatting down to her level, Oliver requests with a comforting smile, "Talk to me."

She starts, a single tear rolling down her cheek, "It's just... I uh-"

"Felicity, honey." Her husband encourages, brushing away a fresh tear with his thumb.

"Ugh, I am just so tired of waiting around. I fee like I'm stuck." Felicity sighs heavily in admittance, "And I hate the fact that I have to ask other people for help. Lately, it just seems like I'm going nowhere. I keep trying and failing."

"Felicity, you aren't failing at anything. We just need to put more of a focus on you, and I'm sorry that we haven't."

She insists, lacing their fingertips together. "But you have, You made all my meals. You assist me in the shower. You help me get dressed. You carry me up and downstairs. You've taken me everywhere I need to go. You even missed William's little league game because of me."

"First of all, I haven't made every single meal of yours. We've gone out to eat at Corrado's, and I know for a fact Gerry's gotten you a pumpernickel bagel and a peppermint mocha latte from Jitters every morning this week. A) I like seeing you naked, so that's always a plus for me. B) I've only helped with your pants and skirts." Oliver checks off, playfully adding in a smug tone, "Don't get used to me carrying you around, Mrs. Queen. You know I'm not as young as I used to be. Until Curtis, Jax, and Cisco adapt our car and fix your chairlift, you're stuck with me, Felicity, whether you like it or not. And don't worry about William's game, Samantha recorded it. I promised I'd make it up to him in February with a father-son day at Papp Stadium. And since when are you the one who feels guilty? You don't have to be. I do those things because I love you, so let me take care of you."

"Hon, what about..?"

"Felicity, what else?"

There's something more, and there's also no point in hiding it. However, she doesn't want to talk about it right now.

She snaps, redirecting, "Can we change the subject please?"

"Fine," her husband relents after placing Felicity in the passenger seat.

Felicity utters under her breath, staring out at the brilliantly lit skyline, "Thank you."

"Where do you wanna eat? I don't feel like cooking tonight."

Eyes flickering meet his, his wife responds "McGuire's."

"You do always say you like Dani's chicken strips and fries better than mine." He claims in feigned offense.

"Because you always have to make everything so damn healthy. For example: All white meat thin cut chicken breasts breaded with corn flakes or fried in coconut oil with a side of sweet potato fries or roasted and mashed cauliflower."

Her husband argues, reaching for Felicity's hand across the dashboard, "I care about what I put into my body and yours."

"Well, I like it, Honey." His wife declares adamantly, "But sometimes a lady just needs to indulge with crunchy fried food and meaningless carbs."

"Okay, okay." Oliver concurs, turning down a road, "McGuire's, it is then."

McGuire's was once a dinky dive bar with good drinks and some pool tables. However, now it has grown into quite the secret little hot spot. It's got a killer menu with a mix of classic and diverse bar food, great custom drinks, pool tables, darts, multiple HD TVs, and because of the mayor's new accessibility clause - the one that states all public buildings need to have an accessible area for patrons- Felicity can whip around that place easily. McGuire's doesn't just have a dinky little wood board, owners claim is a perfectly acceptable ramp. It has a full black metallic ramp with railing and lots of room. The enters the dimly lit bar together, spotting a familiar brunette pouring top shelf vodka for a couple of regular customers.

"Mr. Mayor, First Lady Felicity." Dani ushers, adjusting the hem of her white crop top, "Go grab your usual table, and I'll get you guys some grub."

"Girl," Felicity figures, wheeling herself over to a low table, "You know what we like."

Twenty minutes later, Felicity chows down on some deliciously juicy chicken tenders spiced with just a hint of paprika and a pile of shoestring cut regular potato fries, and she washes it down with a bright red tart vodka cranberry drink that mixed with an orange slice and whole cranberries. On the other hand, Oliver just orders a classic dark brewed beer with a couple Angus beef sliders. Felicity's eyes drape shut, rubbing her belly.

"You going to sleep on me, Baby?" Oliver whispers gently, pecking her cheek.

"No," She draws out, stirring the melting ice in her drink, "Just getting warmed up for date night."

He muses in disbelief, "Uh-huh."

Felicity's eyes slowly blink open, stealing a swig of her husband's beer. "C'mon, Queen. That was for snatching a few fries with those grabby hands of yours. And it isn't date night at McGuire's 'til we play some darts."

"Fair enough," Oliver surmises, following right behind her. "But maybe afterwards, we could talk about..."

"No, heavy topics please. Not again." She insists, parking her chair in front of the dartboard. "For now, I just want a date night with my husband because I just need to relax, so darts. Drinks. Kisses. Go."

He laughs, shaking his head, "One word sentences, huh? I think we're becoming way too much alike."

"Please." His wife scoffs, craning her neck up, "This world can only handle one Oliver Queen, though I do wonder what your doppelganger looks like. I mean..."

Oliver interrupts Felicity with an ardent kiss. When they break apart, Oliver's arms loop around his wife, his hand shielding her beating heart. Felicity's fingertips skim the expanse of Oliver's leather clad arm before they play a typical round of darts. Oliver, of course with his superior archery manages to hit the bull's eye with three quick thwicks cutting through the air.

"Your turn."

Felicity grumbles, angling her wheelchair, "Show-off."

"Heard that, Honey."

"You were supposed to," She chimes.

Felicity throws two darts, narrowly missing the bull's eye by a hair.

On her third and last dart, Oliver steps in, crouching behind her, "Want some help?"

"No, I can do it my..."

"Yourself." He finishes, his breath tickling her ear. "I was just trying to help, and it's so much more fun when we do things together. Don'tcha think?"

He pecks her cheek again, yet this time his lips leave a wet trail of hot kisses below her ear and down her neck. Typically, Felicity's not one to be so easily swayed. However, when he kisses her like that, she becomes slightly more agreeable than before.

"Okay, okay." Felicity half-chides, half-giggles, "Be careful, Mr. Mayor. We're in public."

"Mm," Oliver agrees, smiling victoriously against her skin.

His hand ensconces hers, intertwining their fingertips as he guides her gently. The change is subtle, but it's more about the flick of the throw and the wrist placement. With that, they hit the bull's eye together.

His wife teases lovingly, "You're so cheesy. That has got to be one of the oldest moves in the dating handbook."

"Yeah, well." He remembers, "Tommy Merlyn was my wingman. I learned everything I need to know about women from him."

Felicity quips, shaking her head, "That explains so much."

"Ow!" Oliver plays along, clutching his heart.

She throws in, puckering her lips. "Love you though."

"Love you too." Their mouths collide for yet another kiss, the taste of alcohol still on their lips.

They startle at a quick break of a couple of dudes playing pool. Felicity's eyes gleam, feeling saudade about the little things. Lately, she's been focused on what she can't do. She can't play pool because the tables are too tall. She can't go to beach because her wheelchair would sink in the sand. For God's sake, she can't even drive down the street to get herself a cup of coffee. Anger and resentment bubble in the pit of her stomach, yet she lets it simmer down.

"I really have to pee, so I'm gonna use the ladies' room." Felicity announces, tapping her husband on the shoulder.

"Okay."

While Felicity's away, his ears hone in footsteps that's coupled with a click of a wheelchair belt.

"Oliver," A friend greets.

Clearing his throat, he replies, "Dr. Heywood."

"Nate," the willowy brunette insists.

Oliver adds, swooping down to give Nate's wife a hug, "Aly, good to see you."

"Hey." She drags out cheerfully, looking over Oliver's shoulder, "Where's Felicity?"

"Alessandra, Honey."

Hand covering her mouth, Aly thinks, "My bad. That was rude. It's not that I'm not happy to see you, Oliver."

"No. No." It's fine." He brushes off with a laugh, "She's in the ladies' room. We loved your latest book by the way- _Adventures of the Green Knight and Spartan_."

"Yeah, guess that idea just came to me. I'm gonna go, uh... fix my makeup. Be right back."

Nate pulls up a seat beside Oliver, asking, "Dude, do you ever understand why women go to the bathroom together?"

"It's safer, I guess."

His friend nods, "True."

A little while later, their ladies roll out with thankfully empty bladders and a sleek touch of fresh makeup. They race back to the table, Alessandra's hand touches the edge of the table first.

"Let the record show that I got here first." Aly says triumphantly.

"Oh, and for the record, I let you get here first." Felicity corrects, mentioning, "I was just fixing a sleeve on my jacket."

Aly squeezes her friend's shoulder in comfort while Nate compliments, pecking her lips, "Good job, Baby."

"Yeah, Felicity, you'll get her next time," Oliver adds, knowing exactly what she's doing. Little fun distractions can prevent Felicity from falling in the dark hole of the day, "You two up for another round of drinks?"

"Of course." Aly answers, reminding her husband, "This place has an _amazing_ chocolate strawberry martini for dessert."

Felicity agrees, "Yum!"

"We're on it," the men oblige simultaneously, leaving the table in unison.

Aly's eyes linger on her husband as does Felicity's until her focus shifts to her friend.

"Take a seat, Felicity."

"Um, in case you haven't noticed, we're already sitting."

"You know what I meant, why don't you pull up next to me?"

Felicity hesitates, yet gives in, "Alright."

"So..." Aly begins, biting her lip slightly, "You wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

She exhales, "Oh, the usual."

"Meaning?" Aly questions, rubbing her thumb over the back of Felicity's hand. "Look, I would never try to equate our experiences, I was born with Cerebral Palsy. So I can't imagine what it feels to have your life turn upside down with one major injury. But as a friend, who also happens to be in a wheelchair, I can help you, if you let me in."

Felicity's eyebrows do that little crinkly thing. A bar is definitely not the time or place to talk about her problems, but there are certain moments of the day when the darkness, the aspect of life that bent her hope (though the darkness hasn't broken it yet). At times, it feels like her problems are eating away at her insides like maggots on a corpse.

"How do you deal with it? How do you deal with life like this?" Felicity wonders, tacking on, "There's so many things I can't do anymore. I just don't know how to adapt or if I can even accept it. I want more for myself."

"And you should. But there are still things you can do. You just have to learn a different way of doing things, and with that remarkable mind of yours, you'll figure something out, Felicity."

She continues, "I'm trying, but I'm nowhere near close to my goals."

"You'll get there. It just takes time. Stephen Hawking didn't become a revolutionary scientist overnight."

"Yeah, but..." Felicity asks, chewing on her bottom lip. "What if this time my paralysis is permanent?"

 Aly pauses. The two of them both know with the exceptions of children, miracles don't often strike twice. Hope tends to waiver in the face of doubt, but if anything, friends and love can give strength where it's needed.

"I know that right now permanent paralysis may seem like the end of the world, and while that diagnosis is the worst case scenario, it may happen. Some days are tough for any disabled person, the doctor's appointments, the heartbreak, the stares, the attitude towards you, and all the changes in your life. But if that's the case, you can't let it break you. Yeah, some moments and some people fucking suck, but if this is the test the world's putting you through, own it. Move forward. Learn. Try. Fail, and find another way, Felicity. Let me ask you something, what are you feeling right now in this very moment?"

"I'm scared and I'm so fucking frustrated. I can't find a space for Queen Incorporated, and I'm so tired of stodgy businessmen who don't believe in me."

"Then make one. Curtis, Gerry, Oliver, Dig, Nate, and I will be right by your side."

Felicity realizes, "I keep wanting for things to change, for things to go back to way things were, so I can just feel like myself again. But I can't do that anymore."

"No matter what happens, when you're able to fully reenter the world, do it like the badass I know you can be. Because I know for a fact you can make the world a better place."

On that note, Oliver and Nate clear their throats, double fisting fresh chocolate strawberry martinis and a couple beers. The girls both have a spastic muscle twitch in their legs.

"Sorry," Nate apologizes, setting his wife's chocolate strawberry martini down with a clink.

Felicity inquires, shooting Oliver a patent look over her glasses, "And just how long have you two been standing there?"

"Doesn't matter." Oliver believes, sneaking a bite of strawberry, "Let's just be thankful that we've all had dinner plans with people trying to shoot at us."

Raising his bottle, Nate prompts, "Now that's something to be grateful for. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" His friends echo, clinking their glasses together.

Both couples don't close out the night just yet. They listen to music on the jukebox. Plus while Aly and Felicity are not at the right height to play pool, it doesn't mean they couldn't use the pool table. Luckily, Oliver and Nate have a good rapport with the chef/owner Dani, so when the gentleman place their wives atop the edge of the pool table to share sweet, languid kisses, she looks the other way. Over the next few weeks, Felicity improves a little more. Unfortunately, she's nowhere near out of the woods yet. To make matters worse, the biostimulant chip is broken somehow beyond belief, although Curtis still has faith. The chip isn't some magical, fix-it cure-all, and doctors think Felicity will have to deal with partial paralysis for the rest of her life. That's a massively devastating blow, and news like that isn't something that anyone can get over in a snap. In fact, no one can ever truly get over it. Felicity takes over a year to fully come to terms with who she is now. She wishes she could say that Curtis had fixed the chip in her spine, but that just wasn't the case. However, her reentry to the world at the helm of Queen Incorporated defines the first step in the new, Felicity Megan Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


	2. Who We Are Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies because this chapter is comparatively much shorter than the last one, but I'm writing as I go with this one. I do hope you guys enjoy it anyways.

( _Originally via 411 "A.W.O.L._ )

Heavy footsteps bound atop the rooftop of abandoned buildings that surround, an old Palmer Tech subsidiary, Palmer Paper. Trash can firelight illuminates the darkened spring night. A buffoon who's believed to be a hire for Amertek Industries, is choosing to steal a circuit board from in the wrong city. The Arsenal like copycat just escapes with another piece to what Felicity and Curtis figure to be a technological weapon of mass destruction. Thankfully, the Green Arrow, Spartan, and Speedy are hot on his tail. Speedy easily takes out two of his little friends, firing off a couple red arrows. Oliver smiles under his hood with pride at the sight right before he ziplines down from a water tower.

Pressing his communicator, the Green Arrow hopes, "Overwatch, you got eyes on Weston?"

Her fingers scurry across the keyboard, a black triangular blip reveals, Nick Weston's location.

"He's in the Northeast corridor with that archaic printing press," Overwatch reports, observing, "Honey, be careful. You can't put an arrow through that circuit board, or we'll have to deal with another investigation from Mr. Dennis and Captain Liza Warner."

"I know. I know." Her husband snaps gruffly, not in the mood for a lecture while he's in the field. "Just take deep breaths."

Some might ask why the warning? Nick Weston, son of former Amertek Industries board member, Tom has an obsession with guns. Considering the fact that he was a dishonorably discharged sniper in the United States army, that spells trouble. However, there is more to the story than that for Felicity. The sound of bullets are her trigger. Felicity has been struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder since Darhk's ambush, and some nights she's fine. But certain times tend to be a bit more difficult than most. Besides, Felicity doesn't dare want to leave Oliver in the field without her in his ear.

"Nick Weston," The Green Arrow announces, aiming his bow, "You have failed this..."

It's a quick matter of seconds before Oliver can fire his arrow. Unfortunately, he's getting older and slower. Bullets popping in the midst of night startle Felicity. Her hands jump from the keyboard, twisting her rings on her left finger. Her pearly white teeth are a stark contrast to her patent red lipstick. Tear shine in her eyes, yet she desperately attempts to breathe through the shock that's rippling through her. Thankfully, the episodes aren't as bad as they used to be. Fear overtook her entire being so much so that it was like literally she used to feel the tiny metal bullet penetrating her spine. However, the pain, fear, and flashbacks will always be a presence in her nights, taking into account this heroic lifestyle she and her husband lead each week and then some. With some assistance from A.R.G.U.S, Lyla, and their new psychotherapist, Dr. Quinnzel, Felicity is getting the help she needs.

All Spartan hears is heavy breathing over his comm. Upon recognizing the gunfight, he sprints to Green Arrow's side. He finds his brother, shooting another piece of his ammo.

"Overwatch," Spartan assures, putting pressure on Oliver's wound, "I've got Green Arrow. We have to move now. He's been shot."

His friend grits, "I'm fine. Speedy, don't let him get away."

Speedy fires a red arrow in Weston's gun barrel, hanging upside down from an open window. She subsequently makes sure the perp stays put with a trick net arrow.

"All this crazy for a tiny circuit board that's no bigger than a box of cigarettes." Speedy says, shaking her head.

Her brother orders, leaning on his friend, "Just go make sure Mister Terrific delivers that back to Palmer Tech."

"Yes, sir." She salutes, rolling her eyes. "They'll have it back by tonight."

Her heart still feels like it's beating out of her chest, yet Felicity manages to check on the team, "Everybody alright? Green Arrow, how bad is... you know?"

"It's just a graze." He assures through clenched teeth.

In a reprimanding tone, his wife warns, "Oliver."

"It's not that bad, Overwatch." Spartan vouches, aiding the Green Arrow to the van. "We'll be back at home base in twenty."

By the time, the trio returns to the bunker, Felicity's worries haven't ceased. It's a tricky habit to catch, but her index finger grazes over her rings. The mere feeling of it against her skin is one of the first few steps that help ground Felicity, yet the fear, anxiety, and pain will always linger in the depths of her brilliant mind. Her eyes widen with nervousness, yet Felicity takes a deep breath in another attempt to steady herself.

"Oliver," Felicity repeats, this time much more calm than the last.

He greets with a soft smile, one single word has never felt more assuring, "Hey."

"Dig, let me..." His friend insists, grabbing the large pair of tweezers.

"Felicity, you can't..."

Ah, there is that word again 'can't'. People need to stop treating her with kid gloves. She very well can help patch her husband, if she wants. So what if she had a panic attack recently? She could do this. However, from Dig's perspective, he wishes Felicity took better care of herself first before getting back behind the keyboard, ready to keep the city safe at the touch of a button.

"John," Felicity is adamant, staring him down.

"Felicity, look at your hands."

She does so, and finds that they're trembling. How has she not noticed that before? Felicity looks down at her wine red skirt. The psychological and physical struggles have become parts of her now, yet she understands that those issues don't define her completely.

Sighing, Dig apologizes, "Felicity, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I just..."

"No, no." She relents, holding Oliver's free hand as he winces when John removes the bullet, "You okay there, tough guy?"

"Mm, ugh, ow!" He points out, sucking in a sharp breath. "I could ask you the same question."

Felicity remains wordless, tugging on the hem of her light knit gray crop top. John sterilizes and sutures the bullet with such a skilled and easy finesse due to many years of practice. Oliver's behavior and whining in that whole process is much worse than baby Sara and J.J. when they're at the pediatrician's office.  He foregoes his usual routine of changing out his hunter green kevlar, and Felicity knows what that can only mean one thing. They're going to have a conversation, and a long one at that.

Slipping a chocolate brown leather jacket over his black t-shirt, their friend bids. "Well, I'll see you two. I've got a wife, a toddler, and a baby to get home to."

"Bye," Felicity huffs, wheeling herself up the ramp.

Oliver adds, "Say hi to Lyla, Sara, and J.J. for us."

Dig nods affirmatively before stepping into his car and exiting the carport. Felicity's eyes are fixated on the bunker's settings as she prepares to shut down the tech for the night, yet she doesn't fail to notice that her husband still hasn't returned to his civilian attire.

"Um, aren't you gonna change out of your suit, Hon?" Felicity inquires, noticing his presence behind her.

"In a minute or two." He tells her, pausing for a moment, "But, first."

She mutters, eyes clenching shut, "Damn it, I hate when there's a but."

"Felicity, please."

His wife obliges rather dismissively, typing away at the keyboard. "So talk. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

"C'mon, Baby." He requests with a heavy sigh, "Not like this."

"Fine," His wife grumbles coldly.

He whispers, "Thank you."

Felicity rolls back down the ramp, settling near the secret elevator entrance of the lair. Oliver's leather and kevlar squeak as he rests on his haunches at the very edge of his wife's workstation. He pulls her chair in closer until the toe points of her nude pumps hit the front of his calves. Her lips purse ever so slightly, avoiding her husband's gaze. However with the subtle touch of his index finger under her chin, their azure eyes finally connect once more.

Felicity suggests in a haste, "Look, can we just go home please?"

"I'm still in my suit." Oliver notes, gesturing to his leather and kevlar clad chest.

"So change then," She demands, knowing his intentions full-well.

"Felicity, we need to have a conversation, so we're going to whether you like it or not."

"I don't." Felicity snaps sharply, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child. "And need I remind you, I'm your wife, not your son."

Her husband utters gently, trying to keep the peace. "I know, but Dr. Quinnzel said..."

That the Queens need to keep the lines of communication open and honest in order to help each other when working through her PTSD issues.

"I know what she said, Oliver. I was there."

"So then tell me what's bothering you."

"Ugh, you know exactly what's bothering me. His wife reminds, palming her forehead, "You do realize this is probably about the twenty-first time we've had this conversation?"

"Yeah, but I also know that it helps you feel better." Oliver concurs, noting, "Besides time can change things, so take me through what you felt. What happened in here tonight?"

By 'in here' Oliver doesn't simply just mean the Arrow cave. He means what's going on in that remarkable mind and beautiful heart of hers. He understands better than anyone how Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can affect someone, but Felicity's much braver than him when comparing the two of them in that respect. With some assistance from Lyla and A.R.G.U.S, she is able to seek the psychological help she so desperately needs, especially when it relates to living this heroic lifestyle.

"When you were shot by Weston in the field tonight, I-I was so scared." Felicity admits, tears burning in her eyes.

He vows, leaning in as he grabs her hands, "Hey, I'm here and I'm okay."

"I see that _now_ ," Her voice begins to break. "I can't lose you. I won't."

Oliver squeezes Felicity's hands, urging her to continue - no matter how difficult these conversations can get. Felicity also understands why Oliver's not promising her that she won't ever lose him because the hard truth of it is that she will lose him someday. Hopefully, that eventual day won't happen until five decades or so from now, and Oliver even insisted that he go first during the night she was laid up in the hospital, following the ambush with Darhk's ghosts and a barrage of bullets.

"I can't lose you either." Oliver echoes, promising, "And I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, even from yourself."

"Oliver, honey. We've been over this. I am not quitting the team, despite what Dr. Quinnzel recommended, I want to be here for me."

"But if being away from the team eases your mind..."

"Oliver." She reminds, her smooth palm caressing his stubbly cheek. "The environment in the night life we lead is difficult for me honestly, but my mind is more at ease when I work with you, John, and Thea. You know that. And I hate to break this to you, but just because we're married, doesn't make you the boss of me. I make my own decisions. Okay?"

"Okay," He agrees, kissing the base of her palm. "How did you feel during my altercation with Weston?"

To some, that question may sound somewhat clinical and dry, although Oliver genuinely wants to know. However, he would wait for her just as he always does. For a short while nothing but silence weights the air in the room. Felicity fights the pull of breaking down in tears. It's been a much too frequent occurrence in the past six months. Felicity wants to feel stronger and better than this pain that's plaguing her from the inside out. Yet in the same respect she acknowledges that it isn't okay to keep that pain and anger bottled up because it only leads to more pain and anger.

 "God," Felicity breathes shakily, tears trickling down her face, "I just want to be over all of this."

"All of what? Did you have another flashback to the tree lighting ceremony?"

She shakes her head.

"No, but when you were shot, my heart started beating a mile a minute. I began to cry, and like John pointed out earlier, my hands were shaking." Felicity doubts, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her black blazer, "How can I be useful to the team, if my stupid fracking emotions keep getting in the way of our job?"

"Hey, they are not in the way. We stopped Weston tonight without your help. The way you feel..."

"Is a distraction." Felicity finishes, berating herself

"No, not at all." Her husband notes, "Moments like that are just telling you, you have more work do. I'll be with you every step of the way, and I'll do whatever, _whatever_ it takes to help you through this."

"I thought I was past this. I haven't had an episode in a month. Then the smallest sound sends me over the edge." Felicity's voice tremors, crying, "I want to be past all of this."

"I know, Baby, I know." Oliver understands, ensconcing his wife in a tight hug as he rubs small circles over her back.

She sniffles. Her response is muffled against his chest, "I am so sick and tired of hurting."

"I wish I could take that pain away from you."

Oliver isn't trying to make this issue about him. This is about Felicity and helping her feel better, but that's all he could offer her in this moment. Her cry grows into full-blown sobs. Her breathing jostles underneath his hands. All Oliver is able to do is tether Felicity against him because as strong-willed as she is, she needs him. She needs to rely on him as her husband, friend, and partner. He needs to serve as her rock and her strength. Her body calms a little. Felicity's eyes are red and puffy, yet she feels ready to pull away at least in the physical sense.

"Oliver?"

"Yes?" He replies, wiping her face with his uninjured hand.

"After your five years away, does the pain ever go away? With the life that we live now, are you happy?"

"Honey, of course I'm happy. I have you, William, and Thea. Not a day goes by where I can ever forget what I had to go through on the island. There are times when I wish I could have just one more minute with my parents and Tommy, but for once I feel proud of who I am now. And I feel incredibly blessed to spend the rest of my life with you. Please never doubt that, Felicity."

"But does it get better?"

"Yes." Oliver reassures reverently. "Look, I can't promise you this pain goes away completely, but it can and it will get better."

"How long?" Felicity jokes, "Like six fortnights or..?"

His hand blankets hers, reminding, "You don't have to be funny for me. You know that, right?"

A tiny smile curls on her lips, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "I know. It's just sometimes I wanna get back to the old Felicity- not the rebellious brunette hacker from college, the girl that joined you on your awesome superhero adventure, so we could help people. I always liked that side of myself, but lately she just feels gone."

"I think she's still here. She's just different now. We're different now."

Felicity points outs, "The old me would've drained Weston's bank account until SCPD throws his ass in jail. Then I would've released the news online, smearing Amertek's name as some sort of righteous political statement."

"The old me would've put an arrow right through Weston's heart or snapped his neck."

She says as if it's nothing, remembering. "Yeah, I know."

"We've both grown." Oliver notes, assuring, "Know that whatever experiences you have to go through, in the end they'll make you stronger, but when you ever feel weak, I'll be right there by your side if need me."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else. That's kinda why I married you, mister."

"Kinda?" Her husband questions, huffing out a laugh.

His eyes glimmer with a sadness that he's keeping locked away for Felicity's benefit. Oliver tends to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, often thinking everything is his fault. Why? Because blaming himself is all he knows. However, it provides a reason for aspects of life and what they do as Green Arrow and Overwatch, even if blaming himself isn't a very good reason. It's an answer to something so unjust and unfair. But this isn't about him. This, right now, is about Felicity. Oliver chokes back a quelled watery sob, refocusing on his wife.

"How does it go? If I know you, and I do you probably think how I'm feeling right now is somehow your fault." Felicity breaks Oliver out his thoughts, reading him like a series of code she's written before. "I'm here to tell you that it isn't. It's no longer the fault of Damien Darhk. These are just my demons to battle because they're a part of who I am now. And by the way the second reason I married you is because I fell in love with you, the real you, Oliver Queen, this insanely passionate, stubborn man who's trying to do some real good in the world."

Oliver adds, "I couldn't do any of this without you, Felicity."

"Yeah." Felicity concurs with a playful, "Tell me something I don't know."

In response, he insists, "C'mere."

Sometimes people say I love you sans that exact wording. With a click of wheelchair belt, Oliver lifts Felicity onto his lap, situating her on his good knee. His arms loop around her, hand splaying out against the expanse of her clothed scars, ones he's committed to memory after a few together. Her puppy-like whimper tickles against his neck. Felicity tucks her head under his strong chin. Their eyes drape closed due to a cocktail of current contentment and general tiredness. The bunker is wrapped in a comfortable silence, despite the whir of a couple overhead lights in this cavernous space.

Feeling suddenly lethargic, Felicity figures, "We should go home soon, but you need to change out of your suit first."

"Five more minutes," Her husband requests like a sleepy kid on New Year's Eve.

"Oliver, this is no way in Hell we're staying on that cot tonight. I'd have to sleep on top of you."

"Mmm." Oliver moans, mentioning cheekily, "Fine by me."

"I'm sure it is." Felicity lets out a truly happy laugh. "But our bed is comfier and warmer. So, go change now."

"Yes, dear." He concedes with a wink, setting her back in her wheelchair.

"Thank you." Felicity utters in a playful sense of exasperation.

Unfortunately, it takes a while for Oliver to unlace his boots, but Felicity surely doesn't mind the view of his ass in those fitted leather pants. Subsequent zips and snaps follow, and soon Oliver is donning a dark blue t-shirt, matching jeans, and a black leather jacket with his other work boots.

"Felicity." Her husband prompts, drawing out every single syllable of her name. It rolls off his tongue like honey. "You ready?"

"God, yes." Felicity replies with a yawn, silently asking Oliver to push her chair for once. "Straight home please, Alfred."

Adopting a British accent, he accepts, "But of course, Mrs. Queen."

"So hot," Felicity blurts out.

An eyebrow arches smugly, "Really?"

"Mmhm," She hums on the periphery of sleep.

With a ding, the doors to the elevator slide open and the Queens are on their way back home after a long night's work. Felicity falls asleep by the time Oliver places her in the passenger seat of their Range Rover, snoring softly. After he places her wheelchair in the truck, Oliver takes the liberty of reclining his wife's seat, so she can sleep more soundly. While Felicity isn't out of the woods yet, and Oliver's fully aware of that, it's important that they're able to rely on one another. Because that's a part of what marriage in this kind of lifestyle fighting their way through the danger, only to rise from the struggles, strife, and sacrifice, stronger together than ever before. The psychological scars would be forever present, but with help from Oliver and Dr. Harley Quinnzel, Felicity knows at the very least it will get better someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
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	3. Who We Were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the ratings change. It's their anniversary, smut had to happen. How this chapter ended up being around 7k? I don't know, but I do hope you guys enjoy and comment. The final update will be after DCTV crossover week, this week. I'm hoping by Sunday or next Monday, but I make no definite promises.

( _Originally via 414 "Code of Silence"_ )

Couples always say that the first year of marriage is the hardest. Well, for Oliver and Felicity that is no exception. The biostimulant chip implanted in Felicity's spine began to malfunction during the tail end of their second and last engagement. At first, the issues seemed rather minuscule, Felicity's legs would feel tingly. Then, as time passed, she started to lose control of her reflexes. Much to her excitement, one year ago today she was able to walk down the aisle on their special day with help from Quentin and one bedazzled crutch courtesy of her mother's doing. Unfortunately, the uncontrollable reflex issues caused its fair share of bumps and bruises for both her and Oliver. And then there was that random tingling up and down her legs until she lost almost all complete feeling below her waist, so after consulting one of the best neurosurgeons in the United States, Dr. Henry Allen, she made the extremely tough decision to remove the miracle chip in her spine only to discover that it was broken beyond repair upon the extraction surgery. That news wasn't only a devastating blow. It was a lose-lose situation. The way Felicity handled herself is exactly why Oliver calls his wife one of the strongest people he knows. And whatever they have to go through, they would go through it together because they're stronger for it. Though days like today had their ups and downs for Felicity. Usually, Oliver would've pushed back all his weekend meetings to Monday, but he had a very important one to attend to at the Dearden Children's Hospital.

A sweet little four year old toddler named Ava's one wish this year is to marry Mayor Queen, even though he is already married. Because Ava thinks Mayor Queen is super nice and handsome like a real life prince. Upon hearing this special request, Oliver plans to swing by the hospital early this morning. But first he stopped by to visit Felicity at the site-in-progress, which would be soon dubbed, Queen Incorporated. The sunlight bathes Felicity in warmth emanating from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her mind drifts back to Bali- delicious seafood, sandy beaches, amazing historical temples, and an equally amazing shirtless husband, who knows just how to make her melt at the feel of his touch. Speaking of, Felicity is broken out of her memories by a familiar calloused hand gripping her shoulder.

"Hey," Her husband greets serenely, "I forgot to give Gerry the lunch I packed you this morning."

Spinning her wheelchair around to face him, Felicity guesses, "Turkey avocado tomato sandwich on wheat, no cheese, no mayo, but a kale pesto sauce with freshly squeezed lemonade, and ice cold water with pita chips."

"You forgot the homemade flourless chocolate brownie." He checks off, dropping her red lunch bag in her lap.

"Ah, right it is Saturday, so I do get a little something sweet from my master chef of a husband." She recalls, unzipping the bag. "Thank you."

"It's just Saturday, but I can't believe we had to work this weekend." An eyebrow pitches, and Felicity can see a glimmer of mischievousness in his azure eyes. "Oh, is there anything else going on today?"

His wife plays along, noting. "Well, word on the street is some couple's first anniversary, yet apparently it's rocked with a scandal since the mayor's marrying another girl."

"Hmm... Sounds like quite the predicament. I know that guy pretty well, and he'll always have one special girl in his life. It's just that... Would you honestly say no to a princess?"

They exchange broad smiles, dimples prodding their cheeks as they close the small distance between them.

"You know, even I wouldn't deny a princess that deserving and adorable." Felicity begins, smoothing out some wrinkles, "Don't forget your candy bling. Every bride needs something special for her big day."

"Of course," Her husband notes with a chuckle, plucking a concealed red Ring Pop. "I promise I'll make it up to you with dinner at Corrado's and surprises."

Felicity's voice drops to a seductive, husky tone, promising, "I've got my own surprises up my sleeve, Mr. Queen."

"I can't wait, Mrs. Queen." Oliver crouches down, pecking her lips, "I'll be home by six. Love you."

"Love you too." She bids with a cute wave.

As soon as Oliver leaves the new site of Queen Incorporated, Felicity meets with Curtis and Paul's friend, Tom Mandrake, an interior office designer to discuss colors and furniture. All she has thus far, office wise is some high-quality tech and a comfortable desk. An hour passes, Felicity can't wait to start adding technology from this century. That old bulky computer and keyboard that Bruce loaned her looked like it was straight out of the 1960's, and that simply cannot do. Kneeling by an outlet, Curtis notices his friend/boss is far too distracted to pay attention to him. The city has never seemed so big, Felicity thinks as she gazes out what would soon be her own office window.

"Felicity!" Curtis alerts loudly, "You okay?"

She hums, breathing, "Hmm..? Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

He relents, mentioning, "Hey, I thought you didn't have your Wi-Fi set up in here yesterday. I'm already getting a signal."

On that note, Felicity shoots him a poignant look that just reads, "Really?" 

Her legs may be out of commission, but her mind is still sharp as a tack. Though, right now there's a lot on it. This building makes it all seem so real because in just a few short months, Queen incorporated, her very own tech company would be launched into the business world. To be honest, Felicity feels a little nervous, yet it's definitely a good kind of anxious energy. Not to mention, her and Oliver's first wedding anniversary will be celebrated properly tonight. It's been a little while for them. With work, appointments, and their night jobs, the last time they've shared any sexual intimacy was Valentine's Day.

"Oh, oh!" Felicity chimes, checking the clock on her phone. "It's 9:45. Oliver's hospital visit will be live on Channel 52."

Luckily, Felicity already has the news station website bookmarked on her tablet for Team Arrow related purposes. The news camera catches a glimpse of little Princess Ava's wish being granted. A light up plastic purple tiara adorns the crown of Ava's beautifully bald head. She's wearing an adorable white dress with a bow and matching Mary Janes. Felicity almost fails to notice the IV drip that's attached to her arm. Oliver's knees hit the floor just as he's done in his very first proposal with Felicity.

He pulls out the Ring Pop from his pocket concealed in a canary yellow cardboard box, asking formally, "Princess Ava, will you do me the honor of being my bride today?"

"Hmm," the toddler thinks playfully, pressing a pinky finger to her chin as her mouth tilts up into a toothy smile.

Felicity giggles at that as does Ava. Curtis can see it all over her face because Felicity has a glimmer in her eyes that screams baby fever.

"Oh, my goodness." Oliver continues, clutching his heart, "You gonna leave me waiting, huh?"

"I haven't seen the ring yet, silly." The little girl responds honestly.

"Right, right." Oliver apologizes, opening the box, "My apologizes, madam."

Ava approves delightfully, "Good choice, sir. Cherry?"

"But of course." He confirms, "So is that a yes then, Princess Ava?"

"Yes," She giggles, nodding her head for emphasis.

Oliver gently slips the candy ring on the toddler's finger, and she responds by sneaking a quick taste before the ceremony.

A female nurse with auburn hair announces, "Okay, looks like we have a wedding to go to."

Oliver's hand completely ensconces Ava's much smaller one. Another nurse aids in moving her IV and train of her dress crafted with toilet paper. A willowy brunette male nurse plays the wedding march on an old school organ. Ava carefully stands on a neon green step stool while Oliver takes a seat on a chair from the waiting room accented with lumpy gray cushions. The hospital priest "officiates" the ceremony by reading through traditional vows. Oliver and Ava say their "I do's."

"You may now hug the bride," the elderly priest finalizes.

Oliver ensconces the little girl in a gentle hug, mindful of Ava's IV.

Ava cheers, "This is my bestest day ever."

"I am very glad to hear that, kiddo."

"You really are Prince Charming," the toddler believes.

"Well, I don't know about that." Oliver denies, a pink flush crosses the apples of his cheeks. "But I'm happy I could make your wish come true today, Miss Ava."

After a few minutes, news cameras go back to Bethany Snow, who reports along with a very special visit to Princess Ava, Mayor Queen was seen earlier in the day, visiting other children with terminal illnesses. The story concludes by noting a toy and undisclosed monetary donation to the hospital in the Queen family's name. Felicity emits a content, languid sigh as the video fades to black. She tries to hide it. However, fighting that smile on her magenta lips is no use.

Clearing his throat, Curtis believes, "Oliver's a really good guy."

"Yeah." Felicity says, stating the obvious.

Felicity hasn't been in such good spirits in, ever, Yes, she's a positive person. But since the chip setback, that same spark has been missing. In this moment, Curtis notices his boss appears absolutely giddy.

"So..?" Her friend wonders, pausing briefly, "Does this mean we can expect some little Queens running around soon?"

Her eyes narrow at him, and her hands are steepled in her lap.

"William will have siblings in the future, although right now Oliver and I just aren't there yet. Is pregnancy the only news a woman can have?"

It's a rhetorical, angry question, yet Curtis still gulps out an answer of, "No, ma'am."

"Ah," His boss reprimands, "What did I say about calling me, ma'am? I am not that old yet. I'm only turning thirty this year."

"Of course, girl." Curtis corrects, raising his hand way up, "High-five."

Her arms are crossed over her chest with she responds with an exaggerated clearing of her throat.

Palming his forehead, her friend realizes, "My bad. Low five?"

He lowers his palm down to her level.

"No chance." Felicity huffs out a laugh, wearing her boss pants now, "Back to work, Holt. We've got a lot to finish up today."

Her employee practically salutes, obliging, "Yes, ma..."

Felicity growls lowly in answer to that. Geez, maybe she and Oliver are becoming more alike. What's next will he be quoting certain literary works?

"I totally meant to say 'Felicity', boss."

"Sure, you did. Now we seriously gotta get moving."

To some closed-minded business people i.e. Mr. Dennis, they believe, Felicity simply cannot run her own company because she's a woman. That stings, but what hurts even more so is that some people also think that Felicity can't be the C.E.O. of her own tech conglomerate because she's a disabled woman. And that time, it isn't solely Mr. Dennis' perspective. It's the entire board of directors at Palmer Technologies. They actually say that new companies need to lead with their best foot forward, and she couldn't exactly do that in her current state. Yes, they've used those exact poor word choices. While it hasn't been a cakewalk, Felicity's able to prove all her naysayers wrong. Thankfully, a few smart employees remain by her side. Gerry Conway will still serve as her executive assistant. Karla Groves works in Human Resources, and Curtis holds his main position as head of Research and Development for Queen Incorporated. Just because she's in a wheelchair, doesn't make her some innocent, helpless weakling. It's taken some time. Granted, she's still in the process of healing psychologically, but Curtis can once again see the Felicity he knows just as well as his husband. Felicity, the lady who can whip around in her wheelchair like the building is on fire when it relates to fetching things she needs for herself. Felicity, the brilliant force of nature, ready to be the beacon of hope for the world because of her astute mind, amazing tenacity, and incredible moxie. And damn, his boss can be intimidating when she wants to be - chair or no chair- but in the best way possible.

Hours fly by, her office is teched out with a multitude of security measures, high-speed Wi-Fi, dual computer screens with a wireless mouse and keyboard, optional frosted windows that she can change at the touch of a button, automatic curtains, an HD TV hidden in the wall, a mini-fridge, and a concealed panic button that locks down her office, should the need arise. Felicity puts the final touches on desk. A verdant boss-fern from Oliver clinks on her large gray desk. Next, her thumb brushes a framed collage of her and Oliver, including William and Samantha in a family photo at Papp Stadium. There are also photos from their wedding and honeymoon. To be exact, photos she could show from outdoors. The indoor moments are just for them and only them.

The strikes just past five o'clock, Curtis has anointed himself Felicity's personal chauffeur when Oliver's unable to drive her to work, therapy sessions, and other places.

"Since when did I become your black driver?" Curtis teases lovingly.

Felicity's quick to respond, "Hey! You offered, and what? Did Dig tell you that one?"

"Yep," Curtis points out, "I really like hearing about you guys in the good ol' days."

"I've noticed."

After she wheels herself down the ramp of Curtis' van, one he's originally adapted for his brother, Michael, he inquires, "You need any help getting in your loft?"

"Nope." Felicity assures, popping the p. "I've got it covered."

Felicity spots Curtis' silent nod in affirmation as a reflection in his rearview mirror before he drives home to Paul, who has a delicious taco soup waiting for him. Thank God, their apartment has elevator access. By the time, Felicity's in their loft, transferring herself onto the couch, Thea stops by for an impromptu visit, and she isn't alone.

"Surprise!" Thea announces cheerfully, "Happy anniversary."

"Um, I'm pretty sure your brother and I are just going out to dinner, so we can eat some fancy Italian food. We won't be at some stodgy ball or gala. Unless you know something that I don't."

"No. Danielle and I are just here to help you get ready for a fun night out with Ollie."

Danielle Fowler, a Star City transplant originally from Coast City. She's a hair stylist and makeup artist, who used to work on a Vancouver based TV show, _The Fire of Fury_. But she's moved to Star City to be closer to her dad and stepmom. Now Felicity calls on her expertise when she and Oliver usually have sort of formal event.

Felicity suspects, "Did Oliver put you up to this?"

Thea's brown ankle boot rubs sheepishly against her dark blue skinny jeans.

"Let's go find you an outfit that makes Ollie's jaw drop."

"Thea, you didn't answer my question."

Her eyes flicker to a blank red brick pillar, "Um..."

"Yes," Danielle confirms, shooing them away to the Queens' walk-in closet. "Oliver thought you needed to be pampered for your anniversary."

While Felicity is an advocate for her own independence. It is relaxing to get the movie star treatment every now and again. Twenty minutes later, Felicity descends down the stairs on her chairlift, dressed to the nines. She opts for a white sleeveless, button up blouse, showing just the right amount of cleavage, a sexy, but still comfortable pencil skirt, and some black Louboutin pumps with that classic red bottom. Her look is finished off with a light yellow gold necklace that Oliver got her for Valentine's Day. This outfit makes moving on her own a hassle, so Danielle and Thea lift Felicity into her like the true Queen she is. Once Felicity is all settled, Danielle goes straight to work on an elegant braided up do. She applies her makeup as well, finishing the look off with a coat of magenta lipstick.

Her makeup artist instructs, "Smack 'em."

Felicity's lips press open and closed with a pop.

"Ladies," Felicity asks, eyeing herself in the window reflection, "What do we think?"

"Ollie's gonna die."

Felicity compliments, "Nice work, Danielle."

"No problem, Felicity. You look stunning."

"She does," Oliver agrees.

When did he arrive home? They didn't even hear the front door open.

Ushering Danielle of the loft, Thea surmises, "That's our cue."

The ladies' boots clomp against the dark hardwood floor when they make their exits.

"Your check is in the mail, Danielle." He calls out.

She acknowledges, "Thanks, boss."

The door closes with a snick.

"You really do look perfect." Oliver reiterates, standing beside his wife.

Felicity laughs, craning her neck up for a kiss, "Thanks."

Oliver leans down, meeting her the rest of the way. Their mouths collide into each other for a passionate albeit short smooch. They look both so immensely happy, and they truly are. But Oliver spots a flash of slight disappointment in his wife's eyes.

"Something wrong, Hon?"

"While I appreciate the surprise because Danielle's a wizard with a makeup brush and bobby pins, did you really think I couldn't make this happen on my own. Okay, I'd need some help with my lower half, and it's not that I don't love that you went to such great lengths, I just wanna remind you that I am very capable of doing these things by myself."

"I know," He understands, reminding, "But you do mention on occasion that you wanna have more girl time."

"That's true, but I..."

Oliver interrupts, "You deserve to be treated like a princess."

"Hmm..." Felicity recognizes, admitting, "To be honest, that was nice."

He squats down to her level, whispering sexily in her ear, "Maybe I just wanted you to conserve your energy for tonight."

"Really?" His wife asks, knowing the answer full-well, "Long evening ahead of us, Oliver?"

"Only if you're still up for it."

"Oh, I might be into that."

"You might be into that, huh?" He echos with a smile.

"Uh-huh, but first food, then dessert." She utters in a whisper, yanking his tie down, "And I might know something you'll love."

"Besides you?"

Felicity shakes her head in disapproval at her husband's cheesiness. but it's their anniversary, so she'll let it slide.

Her breath grazes his ear, coaxing, "There's nothing under this outfit, but me."

She smiles cheekily, pushing herself towards to the front door. She winks at Oliver's struggle to control his body. In this very moment, he so desperately wants to throw Felicity over his shoulder, and take her straight to bed. But Felicity needs sustenance. Besides it'd be a shame to cancel their 7:30 reservation at Corrado's, a little Italian bistro, which was the place for their first date-date night. Oliver exhales, looking up at the ceiling before he follows Felicity out the door because Lord, give him strength. The couple manages to make their reservation on time with no funny business. They've really rebuilt this place from the ground. It looks just as they remember it.

"Queen, party of two." Oliver addresses the maitre d'.

"Right this way, sir, madame." He says, leading the couple to their table.

Along the way, a reverend accidentally bumps into the side of Felicity's wheelchair.

"My apologies." He states, offering his well wishes, "God bless you, my dear."

Felicity's outer expression is stoic, but inside she is brewing with anger. Sure, he seems like a nice guy, and that he's genuinely sorry. But it's that look of condolence written all over his face, and the look of admiration towards like he's such a good Samaritan for marrying a disabled woman. Yes, he's a loving, charitable guy, but not because his wife happens to be paralyzed. Felicity doesn't respond, so Oliver subtly pinches her shoulder.

"Mm..." She grunts at that pinch, noting with such false kindness, "Thank you, sir. Have a lovely night."

The reverend's fingertips brush over his pencil mustache and he bids the couple goodbye. When they're seated Oliver orders a scotch, neat, and Felicity gets a glass of Amarone, a celebratory red wine. When the waiter heads back to the kitchen. At this point in their relationship, Oliver can tell what she's thinking most of the time, especially after that little encounter with a man of the cloth.

Oliver rationalizes, reaching for her hand across the table, "He was just being polite."

"I'm Jewish. His prayers don't work for me." Felicity argues, clearly affronted.

"Felicity, Honey..."

"No." She wants to shout, but she remembers she has to keep her voice low. "It pisses me off when people give us that look like... like I'm broken, and you're the janitor who came to pick up the pieces. We're normal. Well, normalish."

"I get that." He calms, caressing the back of her hand, "But some people don't know how to react to someone as amazing as you."

"Oh, don't try to butter me up. Can't I feel mad for one second?"

Kissing her hand right over her ring, her husband pleads, "Not on our anniversary please."

"Okay, fine." Felicity harrumphs, eyes flickering to a vine wrapped around a support beam. "I guess."

"Thank you." He smiles, speaking softly. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Happy anniversary."

She repeats with a tiny smile cracking through her annoyance from earlier tonight. "Happy anniversary."

Oliver and Felicity's lips reconnect at the center of the table, some chandelier and candlelight wrap them in an angelic glow. The kiss is merely intended to be a short peck, yet their desire grows rapidly. They engage in a series of kisses, almost breathing in the same air. Granted, the couple is mindful of the fact that they're in public, but their focus is only on each other. The slosh of liquid being poured into an ample wine glass causes them to finally pull away from one another.

"Oh! We're so sorry." Oliver apologizes, wiping remnants of magenta lipstick from his mouth. "Thank you."

"Yes," Felicity chimes, nearly matching the shade of her lipstick, "Thank you. Um, my husband and I were just... celebrating. Our apologies."

"Never apologize for a kiss, madam, especially not one like that. Love is such a beautiful experience." the sommelier with a thick Italian accent believes, corking the bottle of red wine again.

The same waiter takes their dinner order, Oliver's in the mood for a rich plate of veal osso buco while Felicity decides on an umptious bowl of crab cioppino. Their meals arrive to the table in a short while. Oliver and Felicity feed each other little bites of their food. They eat, reminisce about their first year of marriage, drink, kiss, and simply enjoy enjoy each others' company until they are both finished eating. Oliver smiles with his eyes, staring at his wife as he wipes his mouth with a crisp white linen napkin.

Her husband prompts, "Dessert?"

"Mmm. Maybe. I'm so full." Felicity murmurs, suggesting, "I guess we can split that tiramisu you love so much."

"Actually, I had something else in mind." Oliver mentions, gesturing over to the waiter, "Excuse me, sir? I think my wife and I are ready for dessert."

"Of course, Mr. Mayor. Was everything to your liking?"

"Excellent as always, you think Chef Nicholas will give me his cioppino recipe that my wife enjoys so much."

He plays along, "Nicholas said he'd tell you, but he'd have to kill you. And you, Mrs. Queen? Was your meal satisfactory?"

"Absolutely delicious." Felicity compliments, rubbing her belly.

Upon that note, the waiter leaves their table to bring them a surprise dessert.

His wife accuses playfully, "What did you do now?"

"You'll see," he hopes to charm her with his happy face, although Felicity doesn't fall for it that easily.

"Oliver..."

Right before he can reply, a waiter brings out a slice of red velvet cake with Italian vanilla buttercream frosting adorned with the same exact cake topper from their wedding.

"Aw, Honey!" She coos, smacking his arm out of excitement, "You remembered."

"Ow." He nods, rubbing his bicep, "You thought I wouldn't?"

"Nope." Felicity admits with a giggle, readying to dig into that cake slice, "You're so sweet."

He remains quiet, and feeds Felicity a bite just as did at their wedding one year ago. Felicity does the same. Thankfully, this time, frosting doesn't end up all over their faces and partially in their nostrils. They take a sips of ice cold water and pay the bill with a generous tip. Felicity undoes her brakes, and Oliver drapes his black suit jacket over her bare arms since it's an unseasonably cold Spring night. The drive home is pretty speedy, which Oliver is grateful for.

Unlocking the front door, he announces, "Home, sweet home."

"Mmhm." Felicity adds, "I know you're ready for bed..."

"The couch works too."

She chides, leading him to the living room, "Oliver, I thought we could watch our wedding video."

"Okay," Her husband is reluctant to agree, whining like a child that was just told no.

Oliver transfers Felicity to couch since that outfit is a little difficult to move in without ripping anything. She wraps herself in a cozy gray blanket while Oliver finds the DVD. The whole day is edited down to the course of a half hour. The bottom right corner reads March 23rd, 2018. They show guests arriving to the Starling Fairmont Hotel, where they all got ready before the big day. The camera pans to a row of undone black bow ties. Oliver smooths out the wrinkles in William's lapel, adjusting his crooked bow tie. Dig and Oliver do a shot of Russian vodka with a toast to a long, happy marriage while Quentin and William sip bottles of water. The next scene is in Felicity's bridal suite. The camera does a bird's eye view shot of her unworn dress laid over the bed. Her dress is nothing like the one she wore at their mission-wedding. This one is a bright, long white cotton dress with a flowy skirt that's not too voluminous. It's just easy breezy. The top of the dress has spaghetti straps with a white lace detail and an appropriate v-neck with a match veil. Felicity, Thea, Samantha, and her mother sip glasses of champagne. Felicity's in her baby blue bridal sweats that read "Mrs. Queen" with sparkly decal per Thea's insistence with her hair in red curlers as Danielle does her makeup. Once in her dress, Thea and Samantha are kneeling on other side of her as they adjust the hemline while Donna drapes her daughter's veil and holds her steady. She fights the urge to stipple translucent matte powder over Felicity's face thank goodness, and surprises her with a pink feathered bedazzled metal crutch.

The next portion is Felicity walking (more like hobbling) down the aisle with Quentin and her crutch to support. That smile is plastered over her face, but inside her muscles are shaking like a leaf. Although, damn it, she wanted to walk down the aisle on their wedding day, and she did. Despite the fact that it was so much for her body, Oliver was incredibly proud of her. Knowing the pain she would be in, Felicity and Oliver sit on a couple folding chairs that were spray painted white. Before they even read their vows, Felicity whimpers.

"Oh, God." Felicity complains, voice breaking as two stray tears stream down her face.

Oliver pauses the video, surmising, "I take it those aren't happy tears."

"I should've never attempted that." She continues, struggling to find the right words, "I look... I look like an..."

"You looked beautiful." He finishes, adding, "You still do. I'm so proud of you."

Felicity shakes her head vehemently, wiping her eyes. "I should have used my wheelchair, but would you have..?"

"No matter what way you made it down the aisle to me, I'd marry you in a heartbeat, chair or no chair." Oliver interrupts Felicity, not even bothering to let her finish. "You're my always every part of you because to me, whether you walk or not, that doesn't define who you are. I love you for so many different reasons."

They resume the video, and Felicity isn't feeling particularly happy in this moment. Sometimes people long for experiences they lose over time, and it hurts. Yet Felicity can't let that damper their anniversary plans. She smiles at the video of Professor Martin Stein marrying them in this lush, verdant, and vibrant botanical garden. Her smile returns while Oliver mispronounces a word in Hebrew as they sit under a beautiful chuppah. Even though, there's more of the reception, Felicity stops the video at their first kiss as husband and wife.

"Ya know, I'm getting kinda tired." His wife utters seductively, hand splaying over Oliver's clothed Bratva tattoo, "Wanna take me up to bed?"

He teases lovingly, chuckling, "Oh, so now you don't wanna use your chairlift?"

"Please." Felicity requests, nibbling on his earlobe, "I'd just feel so safe in my husband's big, strong arms."

Oliver inquires in a breath, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Without another word, he scoops Felicity up off the couch, leaving the blanket by the wayside. Her hands brace his shoulders first while Oliver makes sure her legs bracket his torso securely. He bounds the stairs hastily while Felicity held safely in those big, strong arms of his. Felicity's fingers run through his hair as their lips reunite just as did at the restaurant, smiling into the kiss. Oliver practically finds the bedroom door with his eyes closed. Taking a necessary gasp of air before they retire to the bed, Oliver situates Felicity on their little navy loveseat, His hands thread through his beautifully coifed hairdo, attempting to remove all the bobby pins and hair ties.

"Ow, ow! Honey, easy." His wife warns, hissing as Oliver yanks a hair tie. "Be careful."

"Sorry, sorry. Your hair looked cool, but it's a pain in the ass to take out."

"Danielle did it, not me. Just be gentler please."

Bobby pins hit their spare table with a clink, and Felicity sighs in relief. While that up do was gorgeous, when she's finally able to let her hair down, it's like a weight has been lifted off her head. Oliver loves the way her hair falls to her shoulders in natural, loose waves.

They could hear a pin drop as he asks, "Better?"

"So much better." Felicity believes, exhaling.

A beat later, and they're wrapped in each other again.

* * *

  _ **Six Months Ago** _

The first time they tried having sex again post surgeries and Darhk's ambush, it wasn't exactly a story book romantic climax. They had to relearn her body, and how to work together. It didn't make matters any better that Oliver's sole focus was to bring her over the edge, but the problem was. She physically couldn't, not during their first time again. Oliver was moving like flopping fish, careful not to hurt her. Though because of Felicity's lubrication issues, he unintentionally did. In that instant, he immediately backed off. Felicity, on the other hand, assured him that it wasn't his fault. They kept at kissing before they tried again. Oliver held tight to her legs, fusing her hips to hers, although as soon as her butt was lifted off the bed, she passed gas.

"Oh, my God!" Felicity gasped, ordering, "Stop!"

He pulled out, and rolled off her as soon as she uttered those very words.

"Baby, it's not that bad. Dr. Schwartz warned us about issues like these." Oliver assured, caressing her arm as he thought of a moment from his past, "One time I came and sneezed at the same time before..."

"Really?" Felicity accused angrily, "We were trying to make love, and you're telling me a story about a time that wasn't with me?"

"Well, I just thought it would make you laugh."

She responded tersely, "It didn't."

"I see that now. I'm so sorry. Hold on, wait, why is there a wet spot on your...Oh!"

"Damn it!" Felicity cried, berating herself, "I peed myself, and I didn't even notice."

"Felicity, I'll clean it up. Okay?"

She simply hid her face as Oliver used a baby wipe to gently clean between her legs, placing Felicity back in her wheelchair. She was wrapped nakedly in an unsoiled maroon comforter while Oliver cleans up her accident as she cried in embarrassment.

Her shoulders jostled violently when she sobbed, "I feel s-so humiliated."

"Honey, everything's fine. I flipped the mattress."

"This isn't just about my incontinence problems, Oliver." Felicity blubbered, cocooning herself in the comforter. "Nothing's okay. Nothing's the same. _Nothing_."

She needed that moment to cry, to feel, to let all her anger out. He just held her as they were surrounded the darkness of night, whispering sweet "I love you's" They didn't resume their nightly activities for obvious reasons. But in the next few weeks the USB was in Felicity's port, meaning she decided whether or not she wanted sexual intimacy. Oliver admits that, yeah he'd miss sex with her _a lot_ , but he loved her for so much more than that kind of intimacy. From Felicity's perspective, her sex drive was understandably lower than before, but it wasn't all cobwebs and dust bunnies down there. She wanted sex, and craved it at times like all women do at a certain point. So a month after their first attempt, they consulted her neurologist, and gynecologist, who both recommended a sex therapist that specialized in working with various disabled patients. The second time went a little better. They rediscovered her body together with some time, trial, error, and the utmost love for each other.

* * *

  ** _Present Day  
_**

Felicity's fast fingers flick open the buttons she can reach, oddly loving the feel of his scarred skin under her hands. He lays her gently in the center of the bed, ripping the rest of his shirt open. Fabric swoops over the floor in a matter of seconds. Her eyes soak in her husband's delicious half-naked body, licking her lips in wait. His gaze is equally heated, enjoying the way her blonde waves are splayed over the pile of pillows.

"I love you so much." Oliver reminds, his voice laden with desire.

"Show me," She rasps with a come hither motion.

Upon her request, his body blankets hers, though for now he's careful. Oliver bears most of his weight on his forearms, so he won't crush her. Their lips reunite for the umpteenth time that night. Felicity's hands explore the expanse of his back, mapping out his scars in almost a healing, reverent caress. His groan is muffled against her lips before she snakes her tongue past his lips. However, he pulls away for a brief moment to tuck a pillow under her hips. To some that may seem strange, but for Felicity, it not only brings her even closer to him, it makes this moment so much tactile. His lips trail slowly across her cheek, capturing her earlobe between his lips, which as they've learned with practice becomes oh so sensitive. They move further down her neck before Oliver settles on one of Felicity's pulse points, sucking on that spot ardently enough to a very small hickey. Her whimpers grow into moans.

He looks to her as Felicity's skin is starting to flourish in a pink flush, asking, "Now?"

"God, yes." Felicity confirms with an emphatic nod.

He huffs out a laugh when she sighs in response. She unsnaps the three buttons on her blouse, sitting up. Felicity and Oliver's eyes meet, their gazes never disconnecting as she yanks off her white blouse. Oliver wordlessly asks if he should remove her skirt as well, and again she agrees. She can't feel the delicious bite of his calloused hands over her hips, yet she loves watching the look on his face as desire burns in him the instant she's left gloriously naked to him in more ways than one.

Her husband admires the way moonlight glows against her skin, "You're so sexy."

"Even with the intermittent..?"

Catheter that's strapped to her leg. Oliver doesn't pay much attention to that. This isn't some TV show, where everything's pretty, flowery, and picture perfect. This is their life, and they understand her catheter has to be there just in case. All Oliver sees is his sexy, naked wife, lying in their bed as they take their time making love.

"Shh," he shushes, cutting her off with a kiss.

His mouth descends down her torso, pausing to kiss her breast. It isn't all that surprising when Oliver sucks on one of her nipples that Felicity moans languidly. And, oh my fracking god, it feels amazing, especially when his other hand reaches between them, mimicking the same ministrations as his mouth.

"Oh my Mmph..." She keens, nails scraping over his scalp, "Don't stop. Don't stop."

Much to her displeasure, he does, lips traveling down her torso. A kiss lingers on her pubic bone, and Oliver discovers she's somewhat wet. But it's nowhere near enough.

"Are you okay, Felicity?"

"I'm a little frustrated right now to be honest. What are you grabbing? Come back!"

"I'm just getting the KY." Oliver assures, reaching for the bottle of lube that's hidden in his drawer, "Can I..?

"Oh, just do it."

She isn't kidding about her frustration, He gently thrusts two fingers in, whispering memories of many amazing times they've made love over the past few months, and how hot she feels around his fingers. Felicity can't quite describe it. Paralysis has changed the way she feels things. She can tell Oliver's inside her without having to look at him because there's a super thin dull pressure, and her body temperature rises despite cool breeze creeping in from their bedroom window.

"You feel so incredible," He whispers in her ear, planting kisses on her lips and neck.

Felicity insists, whimpering, "Tell me."

"You're so hot and wet. So tight. It's amazing."

"Yes, yes, yes." By the rapid movement of his hand, her mind connects to what he's probably reaching, even though she can't feel that stimulation as much.

Both Oliver and Felicity have to fill in the blanks, which is over the past six months, they've become more vocal. Unfortunately, there are moments when orgasms don't happen for Felicity, although that doesn't mean they're completely impossible. Felicity doesn't reach her peak just yet, but she certainly feels more aroused. It's like there's the buzz in her, and she wants more. She needs more, but for now her pleasure is where it needs to be.

"I love you, Oliver." She utters quietly, "C'mere."

Her hands find his zipper, sneaking past his boxers as she grips his member at the perfect pressure.

"Oh God, Felicity." He warns through clenched teeth, "Just wait."

"But I wanted to..."

"I wanted to be inside you when I come, I don't wanna do it in my pants." Oliver tells her, panting slightly as he ensnares her wrist.

Felicity concedes, wanting that just as much as her husband, "Okay."

After applying some more lube, Oliver insists, "Hold on to me tight."

"These are almost the exact circumstances I pictured you saying that to me." His wife recalls, gigging.

Oliver wraps her up in his arms, pulling them both in a sitting position. Their noses brush against each other. Their breaths ghost over the one another's lips, looking straight in each other's eyes. Have they always been that blue? Though that thought s quickly wiped as Oliver thrusts into her gently, finding her entrance with practiced ease. Oliver holds her hips aloft while Felicity clings to his shoulders. They keep up that hard, slow rhythm until pleasure is hearkening Oliver first. Regardless of the burn in his muscles, he nips at her neck, trying to give her something. But it just isn't there yet. He can't exactly reach that little bundle of nerves that he knows will send her right over the edge. Despite every fiber in his being screaming otherwise, Oliver lets go first, spilling into her in long, hot spurts. He shudders against her skin, easing his rapid heartbeat.

"That was amazing, Felicity."

"I love you so... oh!" She's taken aback when Oliver lies her down on the bed with him in one fluid movement, "Honey, you don't have to..."

That sentiment falls on deaf ears. Oliver rubs right over her tender clit while he simultaneously sucks on her nipple again. The build up is sort of like his beloved pressure cooker- slow, steady, and reliable. When Felicity reaches that peak of pleasure, it's definitely not the same anymore, but it's there. A blush brightens her skin as her back arches slightly towards him as a little moan escapes her lips.

"Better?" He asks again.

Felicity repeats, "So much better."

They clean up, and spoon nakedly. There's no better way to spend their anniversary. By morning, they realize they forgot to exchange gifts. So when Oliver delivers breakfast in bed on a lazy Sunday morning. Felicity gives him a sterling silver watch that resembles one Robert used to wear, according to Thea. Oliver presents her with a heart shaped locket with a photo of them on Valentine's Day, a reminder of who they were a month ago, and who they're becoming now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


	4. Who I'm Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the final chapter is up today. I've written previous stories where Felicity has been paralyzed again, but this one has been particularly special for me to explore on an expanded scale.  
>   
> As a disabled person myself, who happens to be in a wheelchair because I was born with Cerebral Palsy. I made sure to do some research on paralysis and PTSD. It's been my hope to show each aspect from the emotional, physical, sexual, and other aspects in a different light than what readers are used to. I wanted it to be romantic, but honest and real as well. Disability is not a death sentence. It's not confinement. Disabilities can be life changing factors to someone's every day, but they become a part of life over time. People still live happy lives, despite the ups and downs. In other words, this is both my perspective and my long winded way of saying thank you so much for reading. And for some, thank you for sharing your own story with me as well.

( _Originally via 413 "Sins of the Father"_ )

The gleam of the moon accompanies Felicity on this pitch black night. It hangs high in the sky. Unfortunately, bright stars are shielded from view due to fog and ambient light.The hustle and bustle of the city is ever present. While Felicity knows she isn't alone, she's much too focused on another glow, the one that's emitted from her laptop. Her fingertips dance across the keyboard from decades of experience, yet a keystroke seems to falter. Her eyes are weary, falling closed, then snapping open. An unwelcome yawn sneaks out of her mouth.

"Mm, ah." Felicity mumbles, typing away when she hears the creak of a shoe. "Don't even think about it. Honey, I just need to finish this last paragraph."

Rubbing her tense shoulders, Oliver insists, "You need your sleep. It's almost one o'clock in the morning."

"I just need to finish about three more sentences for my presentation at the QI announcement."

" _Hon_."

Fighting the urge to flip off her husband, right now all she has the energy is a simple, but withering gaze. Her fingers scurry across the keyboard at near lightning fast speed. After she's done skimming over her single page document, Oliver waits until she completely closes her laptop.

Pausing for a beat, he asks, "You done?"

"Uh-huh," she nods wearily.

"You want me to carry you upstairs tonight?"

"No, no." His wife objects, already wheeling herself over to her chairlift, "I've got it."

Thankfully, the constant whir from the chairlift is just enough sound to keep her awake as she ascends up the stairs. Oliver folds up her new chair with a design courtesy of Cisco and carries it in a suitcase like object alongside her. With the touch of a button, Felicity's manual wheelchair pops up like a Transformers robot. At least it doesn't have any artificial intelligence or any resemblance to a speaking robot as well, though Kara claims robots have their pros and cons. Her arm muscles are lethargic, and Oliver can see easily see that in the way they shake like a chihuahua. Despite every fiber in his being screaming otherwise, he doesn't help Felicity much because Oliver understands she wants to do transfers like that herself and she can for the most part - even when she's tired. Plus, it is better for her, according to Paul and her doctors in order to maintain her strength. Felicity's treading periphery of deep sleep before her head even hits the pillow.

Feeling nothing but cold sheets on his side, Felicity prompts, "You coming to bed, ol' man? You are the one who asked me in the first place."

"Ha ha," her husband huffs, "In a few. But do you think we need to change your catheter before you fall asleep?"

"Hmm...No." She believes, another yawn lacing her tone, "You've just changed it four hours ago, and I already feel my body clock setting itself for 5AM."

"Okay," he replies quietly, stripping off his gray t-shirt and black sweatpants before he climbs into bed.

Felicity requests, "Now come closer. I need my pillow."

His body is like a firm pillow and a heater all rolled up into one. Oliver gently rolls Felicity onto her side, mindful of the catheter strapped to her leg. A quick sleepy peck on the lips and an exchange of "I love you's", the Queens are off to a land of some much needed rest. Felicity has gotten to put the final touches on her QI presentation before its launch into the business world, which is only six short days away. Upon attempting to leave the comfort of their warm bed, Oliver feels a pair of familiar arms ensnaring his torso.

"Felicity, I'm just gonna go for my run."

"Stay." His wife demands, eyes still draped shut.

"Felicity."

Damn it, there's something about the way he says her name - how he pronounces every single syllable. It rolls off his tongue like a smooth red wine.

"Okay, fine. But watch out for splinters, tough guy."

Slipping out her embrace, he insists, "That was one time, Felicity, and that thing was almost like an entire twig punctured my thumb."

"It was twice, you big baby." His wife corrects, noting. "And those splinters were no bigger than the stubble you leave by the drain every few days."

Throwing on his green hoodie, Oliver bids, "I'll be back in a bit. Love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too, and since you're so pumped for your run, leave me to my Justin Carson dreams."

"Huh? I knew there was a reason you started wanting to watch Rockets games with Will and me."

"Oh, just go!" Felicity laughs just this short of throwing her pillow at him.

A typical five mile jog surrounded by trees later, Oliver pops back out in suburbia, heading straight back home to his loving wife. His sneakers bound the stairs, opening the bedroom door to reveal Felicity in nothing but a pink robe as she usually reads over articles written by Iris West-Allen for the new newspaper, the Central City Citizen.

Clearing his throat loudly so as not to startle Felicity, Oliver points out, "You look perfect."

"Perfectly comfy." She adds, plugging in her precious piece of technology.

"No, just perfect."

"Oliver, I thought the honeymoon phase was supposed to end after six months. I'm wearing no makeup. My hair's like a tangled web, and... Wait a minute, you're just saying that because I'm naked under here. Aren't you?"

"Well, it helps." Her husband admits with a boyish smile, directing with his thankfully splinter free thumb to their master bathroom, "C'mon."

Felicity used to bemoan showers with the use of a bath chair. She claimed it made her feel like a weak old lady. However with her legs out of commission, she has no other choice. The first time she tried showering alone, tears fell down the drain along with soapy water. Not to mention that fact that she nearly fell, which would have made matters much worse.

Now months later, showering with Oliver has simply become a part of their daily morning routine. He goes for a run, and gets all sweaty. She gets out of bed, reads articles and other things on  her tablet. They take a shower together in their luxurious master bathroom, and they eat at home or grab a quick breakfast at Jitters if they're running late for work. Her bath chair is placed in their large shower with dual shower heads and sandy brown marble walls with a resounding clink. They both strip down, and stream of hot water rains down them both. Felicity could handle her upper front half perfectly. They have shower caddies, where she could reach her soaps and shampoos. The lower half was a different. While she could reach to her thighs, Felicity has a bit more trouble when it comes to her calves, so Oliver has taken the liberty of washing that portion of her legs including some other parts of her body that she couldn't quite reach on her own anymore. He even shaves her legs on occasion, much to her chagrin. Realization about her displeasure donning on him, one morning Oliver had asked that she help soap up the middle to lower expanse of his back. She knew he purposefully asking for her help. That way Felicity wouldn't feel so uncomfortable by the idea. Alas, sometimes those feelings still remain to be a weight on her conscious. The knobs on the shower squeak closed as steam fills the room. Felicity wraps herself in fluffy pink towel as Oliver grabs his large light green one. He lifts Felicity out of the shower, carrying her over to their his-and-her sink.

Sighing heavily, her smooth palm contrasts his slightly longer stubble, "You know, I didn't expect us to be doing us until we were in our old and gray years."

"It's okay. So we're a little ahead of the game plan."

"Oliver, I'm being serious here."

"So am I," he counters immediately, reaching for a bottle of lotion.

Felicity's doubts bubble up to the surface again.

"And you're sure you're not bothered by all... you know. We can get a home care nurse."

"Like I said before." Her husband assures, slathering a glob of lotion onto her thigh, "I like seeing you naked, and you can't tell me you haven't enjoyed showering together either."

Well, that's true. Oliver's so attentive, careful, and loving. Plus there's an added of just being able to watch the sweat and water drip down every nook and cranny of his rock hard muscles, caressing his scars, his cute dampened dark blonde locks with that truly happy smile of his. Following a respective shave and blow dry, once dressed Oliver and Felicity grab a quick breakfast downstairs. Felicity opts for a poppy seed muffin and a latte while Oliver goes straight for his boring black coffee and a granola bar. They retreat back to their master bathroom, assuming their original positions to brush their teeth.

Felicity plays with the buttons on her white lace trench coat, reciting a part of her speech. "As many of you know, Queen Consolidated was once a family business, and..."

She stops all together when she spies her husband's large stature filling the doorway to their walk-in closet.

"Don't stop on my account." He offers her a soft smile, stepping behind her wheelchair, "I can't wait to hear this one."

"My presentation's not 'til Friday, but the board wants me to go through a dry run this morning. That's why I absolutely had to finish writing it last night. I can't just wing it like you."

Oliver reminds, "Technically, Thea's incredible at writing down what I say, and making it into something good."

"I know," Felicity laughs, skimming over his arm. "Your mother would be so proud of you both."

"Dad too. I hope." He continues, adjusting his red polka dot. "My family's name..."

"Isn't what it once was, which I was okay naming the company, Queen Incorporated."

An eyebrow arches, doubting, "You sure about that? Maybe there's still time to change the name."

"Oliver," She mentions firmly, "It's staying whether you like or not."

"Yes, Mrs Queen." Oliver obliges, wondering. "Hey, you want me to stop by your meeting with the board? You know for moral support?"

"No," Felicity waves off, reassuring, "It's just a dry run."

Felicity turns her chair. Oliver's leans down for a quick peck by the time Curtis buzzes their front door, readying to chauffeur Felicity to Queen Incorporated. By the time they're all on the sidewalk, Felicity leaves Oliver with another parting kiss as he gets the tie-downs hooked to her chair, so she stays securely in place.

"You're gonna do great." Oliver believes, winking at her.

She breathes, "Thanks."

"Don't be nervous, Felicity." Curtis advises, rather enjoying the view of Oliver's butt in dreamy Italian suit pants. "Um, just imagine people in their underwear. Maybe not Mr. Dennis..."

"Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Dennis is gonna be there? No one told me."

All her friend has to say is, "Oops!"

"You'll be fine." Oliver reiterates, descending down the ramp. "Knock 'em dead. You've got this. I know you do."

Taking in a deep cleansing breath, Felicity repeats, "I've got this. It's not like I have to have it memorized."

Half past noon, a practice run for the introduction of Queen Incorporated begins, and it doesn't exactly go off without a hitch. The speech itself is empowering, but as Felicity fumbles with the mic attached to her dress strap and has difficulty pulling at the blue curtain to unveil the Queen Incorporated. The blue sheet ends up being draped over as she is an empty piece of furniture, waiting to be moved.

"Damn it." Felicity growls, clearly agitated as she throws the sheet off her lap. "You don't have to worry about a thing, and may I ask what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Dennis?"

"I thought I'd pop by and see my little girl."

Curtis fills in, taking notice of Felicity's confusion. "He's Karla Groves' father. She works in Human Resources."

"Oh," His boss chimes, "so I see."

"That's right." Mr. Dennis confirms, chuckling. "Mrs. Queen, may I be uncomfortably honest?"

She mutters under her breath, "No, you weren't even supposed to be there."

"What was that?"

Adopting a feigned cheery tone, Felicity points out, "Well, you've never show the inability to do so before, Ted."

"You know I prefer 'Theodore' or 'Mr. Dennis', Felicity." He laughs, "That was a good one."

With her hands steepled in her lap, Felicity reminds, "I believe you had something to say to me."

"I might suggest having someone else handle the presentation at your grand opening. My daughter happens to have a friend with a degree in Communications, Siobhan Smythe."

"With all due respect, sir." Felicity combats adamantly, "This is _my_ company."

"Yes," An elderly graveled voice pops up from the crowd that's mainly compromised of former Google employees and stodgy white men. "However, Mrs. Queen, we need to make the decision as a board, so we can put our best foot forward."

A bitter chuckle flees from her mouth, "That's not exactly something I can do now, Mr. Smith"

"My apologies, Mrs. Queen. That was a poor choose of words." Mr Smith amends, taking his other colleagues into account. "We believe in your ideas, but we need to start off on a high note."

"And you don't think I can do that, sir?"

The board member responds before exiting the room, "Frankly, ma'am. No, I don't."

To say that merely stung would be a gross understatement.That sentiment, which is shared by the rest of the QI board, cuts like a knife. The board of directors hasn't ruled Felicity out completely, but currently she isn't their candidate of choice. Considering this is her very own company, she isn't go down without a fight. That's what she does. Although, after the presentation, Felicity has to immediately switch gears, so they can go over schematics for a new Q-Watch - a little accessory that will over ten times the computing power of most high-end tablets.

"Mrs. Queen..."

She corrects, palming her forehead, "I told you Gerry that friends can call me, Felicity."

"Felicity." Her assistant Gerry informs over the phone, "The board would like to see you in conference room C."

"Ugh." Felicity groans, striding over to that very room, "This can't be good."

This news wasn't great. It wasn't like she was fired, and they didn't rule her out as the person, who gives the first speech at the grand opening of Queen Incorporated. In fact, what the board members had to share left her quite unsettled, although she shoved her anxiety down so deep. That way, Felicity could handle the important part of her job on her, being CEO, and ensuring people are doing jobs that benefit others in the process. Later that night, Curtis drops Felicity off to Oliver, who's awaiting with two mugs full of hot cocoa.

"Thanks, boss." Curtis thinks, wondering how this man could even sexier.

Oliver questions incredulously, "Excuse me?"

Oh, frack, so he did say that last part out loud.

"Curtis, we're married, and he bats for the other team." His boss reminds tersely.

"Um, what I meant to say was no marshmallows?"

Oliver shrugs, "We're all out. Sorry."

"Bye." Felicity waves, "See you tomorrow."

"Bright and early. Wait 'til you see what I have planned in a few months."

Curtis drives off with an empty mug. Ah, they'll get it back from him soon. Felicity pushes her chair to the elevator entrance vigorously when the Queens reach their. She ardently slams the door behind her after Oliver has already shut it. Wordlessly, she moves to the kitchen, finds a cooked, but cold turkey leg, and starts gnawing on it intensely.

"Hon, you want a plate for that?" Her husband asks, setting a clean plate down on the kitchen island.

"Oh, was that supposed to be funny?" She snaps with a mouthful of turkey.

"No, that was an actual question."

His wife grumbles, harshly swallowing a bite, "I'm fine."

"Ha!" Oliver says in disbelief, "That's usually my line."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"C'mon, we both know by now that we're going to anyway unless you wanna schedule another appointment with Dr. Quinnzel?"

Felicity is still seeing Dr. Quinnzel to work through her psychological battle, especially considering their night jobs. Though the visits have grown shorter and shorter to once a month as opposed to once a week. She's slowly getting out of the forest that boggles her mind, but that forest will feel like a constant trap that just won't be cut down.

"Not every problem is a Dr. Quinzzel problem, Oliver."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks gently, "So what's going on with you?"

"My board of directors is comprised of complete dickwads, sexist dickwads at that."

"What did they do this time?"

Wheeling over to living room, Felicity pats their wide ottoman, "Sit down, this could take a while."

Felicity runs through everything from her encounter with Mr. Dennis to the Mr. Smith's feelings about her leadership skills to her work and progress being monitored by the board. The board at QI isn't comprised of friends. It's made up of qualified employees, who are supposed to work alongside Felicity. However, given Felicity's frequently unexplained absences at Palmer Tech, the board invoked this decision as a means for Queen Incorporated to flourish and grow.

"Where exactly was the sexist part in that?" Oliver questions, trying to remember everything she's said in the past few minutes.

"That's what you took away from this conversation." His wife accuses, gripping his rolled up shirt sleeves, "Whose side are you on, Queen?"

"I'm always on your side, Felicity." He vows, explaining weakly, "I just didn't know what else to say."

"They're-They're being crazy, when I was at Palmer Tech, it wasn't like I was away." Felicity recalls, tacking on, "that much. I don't think it's even legal."

His pitch raises, looking away for a moment, "Well, even CEOs have someone to report to, and they can monitor your hours by the time you clock in and clock out each day."

"Oliver." She reprimands almost as if he's a Golden Retriever.

"Hey, I am on your side, but given what we do for the city, there was some truth there."

"But?"

"But." Oliver continues, interlacing their fingertips. "With crime rates down, you'll have more time to devote to the company."

"I know," Felicity agrees solemnly, "I just don't wanna let anybody down."

He smiles, "You won't."

"How can you be so sure?" His wife wonders, biting her lip.

"Because you're _you_ , Felicity. You work hard and smart at just about anything you put your mind to."

After that horrendous dry run, Felicity spends the next four days, attempting to master every aspect of her presentation. On top of that, she pops in to oversee Curtis' work, which he's keeping a surprise as some sort of Hanukkah present for her later this year. She also spends some brief time meeting with new hires for QI, Not to mention she's handled one night this week monitoring comms as Overwatch for Team Arrow related business. Thankfully now all they get most nights is a bank robber or a gunman that the SCPD can't seem to thwart without help from the Green Arrow and his team. By Thursday, Felicity is scouring through a series of multi-colored note cards to review her speech for the launch announcement. She even goes as far as to throw a bed sheet over one of her and Oliver's TVs, ensuring the sign unveil goes off without any problems this time. To most people, Felicity seems a merely a little stressed. However when minor stress is coupled with PTSD that worries Oliver. She needs a break, or she's going to run herself ragged.

"Oliver, my love, it's like I can feel your eyes on me."

"Good." Her husband announces, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. "C'mon. You're coming with me."

"Honey, you know I have a bunch of work to do."

"I know. You've been working on it for almost this entire week. You need a break."

She thinks, "I don't have time for a break."

"Felicity," Oliver utters her name like a whisper in that special way of his, requesting. "Please."

Felicity concedes with an exasperated sigh, "Fine."

In a comfortable silence, the couple takes the elevator all the way up to the rooftop of their apartment complex. Thank goodness, their roof has elevator access. Felicity wraps her arms around herself, clutching the sleeves of her red trench coat since Oliver doesn't do that himself. He's been holding something behind his back before they even made their way up here. In their line of work, she's definitely been up on rooftops before. Even when Felicity was a teenager in Vegas, she find her way atop a hotel she and her mother used to frequent and have a picnic up there when they weren't allowed, but that's beside the point. Despite her fear of heights, Felicity's never taken the a good amount of time to look at the skyline right in front of her. Now she gets that chance. Large multi-story buildings are brilliantly lit up, including her own, although without the massive lit neon blue Queen Incorporated sign. The only thing she wishes she could see from here is Starling Bridge. Unfortunately, that landmark is far too distant from their home.

"You're probably wondering what we're doing up here?" He surmises, rounding her chair.

She answers, "That thought has crossed my mind, but I'm more interested in what you have behind your back."

He reveals a chocolate brown leather bound photo album along with a small silver lighter.

"Here's to making sure our past stays our past."

"You wanna burn photos from our very first trip around the world." Felicity figures, noting. "Oliver, you love these."

"Yeah, but you don't. You don't think I've caught you looking at these photos and crying. We're different now. We're married, so let's look forward to making new memories."

Fire crackles as they burn away three photos from Positano, Bali, and Thailand, disposing them in a large nearby trashcan. A sea of orange light complements the darkened sky, if only for a moment. While Felicity doesn't say this aloud, Oliver is right. It's definitely time for some new beginnings. However, change is really scary to her, and it's not just the height from the ground as Felicity's eyes flicker down to the street briefly. Oliver dampens the fire down to nothing but smoke with a large concealed pitcher of water that's hidden in a picnic basket in one of the vents.

Her voice is a little shaky, but she recognizes, "So that's why we're up here, huh?"

"Mmhm," Her husband hums, grabbing a picnic basket filled with little chocolate desserts and another pitcher of water.

Swallowing a delectable, rich brownie bite, his wife jokes, "So do you remember everything I've said to before we were married, or what?"

"I may be pretty good, but that's impossible. It's just that you, Felicity Megan Queen, are hard to forget. There's just something about you."

"Mmm," Felicity wipes the remnants of chocolate around her magenta stained lips, "The board at QI doesn't see it that way."

"Yet, but they will." Oliver adds in his vote of confidence, inquiring, "Is the board the only thing you're worried about, Felicity?"

Sucking in her bottom lip, his wife confides, "What if I'm not ready to run my own company? I don't have a Master's degree in business."

"No, but what you do have is an IQ that surpasses all of the members on the QI board. You have brilliant ideas, heart, passion, and wit. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy. but I believe that you can help as Felicity - not just Overwatch."

Felicity exhales, prompting, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna be able to sneak out of City Hall at one o'clock tomorrow?"

"Thea and Quentin have my back." Oliver assures, pecking her lips. "I wouldn't miss your big day for the world."

And he doesn't. For once, Oliver's early, and he's almost never early. Late is more of Oliver's on time, but he knows how important this is to Felicity, so for her, he'd be there. Before the slew of reporters arrive, Felicity paces the stage back and forth, only ceasing when she spots her husband right below the platform.

"Hey," Felicity greets in relief, stretching out the word.

"Hi." He responds, meeting her up there. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm gonna throw up."

Despite that sentiment, Oliver plants a good luck kiss at the side of her mouth. "You're going to be amazing out there, Felicity."

He's careful not to mess up her makeup before he takes his seat in the second row.

Reporters and other guest file into for Felicity's Queen Incorporated launch announcement. Sitting tall with nearly perfect posture, Felicity wheels her chair to the center of the stage.

"Welcome," Felicity begins, "Today it is my great pleasure to introduce something very close to my heart, something that took almost two years from conceptualization to realization, something I truly believe can make a difference in our beloved city, Queen Incorporated. As many of you know, Queen Consolidated was once a family business, and it's about time now that we get back to that. Granted, I understand people's concerns, the Queen family name has been rocked with previous scandal in the past, so some of you may see this as an ulterior move to right the family now I now bare."

During that introduction, she's unveiled the neon blue sign in big block letters with poise and grace. Her gaze flickers to Susan Williams, casting her a subtly smug smile.

"By my sister-in-law and my husband have already brought that name back to its former glory." She continues, eyes softening at Oliver's proud smile. "This isn't a way to change people's minds about my family. This is my hope, my own chance, and my personal mission to help the people of Star City. Today, I rest atop the shoulders of many giants Thomas Edison, Nikola Telsa, and Curtis Holt. Together, it is our mission and our promise to be a beacon of hope, and help this city become better than it already is with technology that will revolutionize the world as we know it now. We already have ideas and some inventions in the works that we plan to make a reality soon. So here's to Queen Incorporated. Thank you."

Felicity emits a radiant toothy smile as the room erupts in a cacophony of camera flashes and robust applause. Oliver's smile matches her, clapping along with other audience members.

The Queens' friend Nate Haywood, who's sitting next to Oliver, notes, "Felicity's really something - no matter where she is. Isn't she?"

"You've seen that first hand." Oliver comments, looking to Nate's wife Aly sitting in her wheelchair just one seat over from her husband, "Where would we be without them?"

"I don't even wanna think about that." Aly adds, believing, "Felicity's incredible."

Oliver nods reverently in agreement. An hour later after most of news crew and guests have left, Oliver, Nate, and Aly remain by Felicity's side.

"I did it," Felicity cheers, sighing in relief, "Thank God, I got that over with."

Her husband compliments as the group strides over to the elevator, "You were awesome out there, Baby."

"I just have to debrief with Curtis, but he'll still bring me home after five."

"Okay, but this is your big opening day. It calls for a celebration." Oliver believes, inviting Nate and Aly, "You guys wanna come over for dinner at our place? I make a spectacular chicken cordon bleu."

"Sounds fun." Aly agrees, offering, "I'll bring my mashed roasted cauliflower."

"You too?" Her friend points out, "Oliver loves making that as a side."

"Ah, but does he make it with garlic powder and turmeric?"

Nate adds, licking his lips, "The spices are key. We'll be over by seven, and I won't forget the champagne."

"You better not, Heywood." Felicity falsely threatens as her loved ones depart.

By seven, the group is abuzz with elation for Felicity's new step into the business world. Along with Nate and Aly, Felicity tacks on Curtis and Paul to the invite list. The Holts bring quiche and an array of cupcakes. while Nate and Aly arrive mere seconds later with roasted cauliflower and champagne in hand. They dine on delicious food. Curtis reveals his surprise work-in-progress for Felicity and Aly too, so no, it isn't a repaired biostimulant chip. However, it is technology that will happen Felicity and Aly drive on their very own at the touch of a few buttons. It far surpasses vehicle adaptations that are already out for disabled drivers. The ladies can't wait to see it come to life. With a thwick of a green arrow, Oliver pops off the champagne cork with not a scratch on Nate who accidentally steeled on just in case. Aly's warm lips against his melt Nate's fears away.

Oliver toasts, raising his glass, "To life being full."

"And finding other ways." His wife continues.

Nate adds, "To changing the world for the better."

"And to being with the ones we love - no matter whatever life throws at us. We're in it for the long haul," Aly finishes.

The Holts chime in simultaneously, "Hear, hear."

They close out the note clinking glasses with friends surrounded by soft light.

Felicity wishes she could say QI was an instant overnight success in its first year of business, but as a brand new tech company that wasn't the case. At the very least, it was a viable business with loyal employees and customers in Star City. Unfortunately, Felicity never got "better" physically. Despite all the struggles and strife that will forever be a presence in her life, Felicity's grateful for what she has a thriving business, a loving husband and stepson, wonderful friends, and cheesy enough, hope. It sort of reminds of what Quentin had said after his stint in the New Oasis rehab center, you take it one day at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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